Page 46 of Stolen Vows


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That smirk flashes across his face again. “You’re showing how much you want me, principessa.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because I doubt you fathom what your desire does to me.” He kisses the back of my hand. “Come on. We’ve made our appearance, now we should get going before my mother comes looking for us.”

I shudder at that possibility. I’m trying to make a good first impression on Mrs. De Luca, not get caught doing naughty things in her son’s old bedroom.

“Um.” I walk over to the mirror and cringe at the damage. My hair is wild, lipstick smeared, mascara streaking down my face, and my cheeks and neck are flushed. Plus, I’m missing my panties.

I turn to Roman. “I can’t go out like this. I’m not even sure how we’re going to slip out of this party without being seen.”

“You look perfect.” Roman’s grin is possessive and devious. “Like you’ve been thoroughly satisfied—for now.”

“Roman—” I chide him.

“I’ll help you fix your hair.”

Ten minutes later, I look passable. My body aches in the most amazing way, and Roman left a multitude of little red marks on my neck, but besides that I’m presentable enough.

Roman slides his hand up my throat and grips the back of my neck. I shiver at his commanding touch. The hold is purely possessive, staking his claim to everyone who glances our way as we weave our way downstairs, through the ballroom, and out the front door.

CHAPTER16

Roman

“What do you mean by adelayin shipment?” I speak into the phone, elbows resting on my desk, jaw clenched when all I get in response are excuses. “I don’t care what it takes to get it where it needs to be on time, Ricardo. If you need to hire more labor, then hire them. That paperwork should have been done weeks ago. If you can’t do your fucking job, then I’ll replace you with someone who can. Get. It. Done.”

I hang up. There’s no point in discussing the matter further. Ricardo will either get the job done, or face the consequences when Don Casella doesn’t receive his goods. Because ultimately, this will come down on my head and that shit rolls downhill. If my man’s fuck ups put me in poor standing with Casella, there’s going to be hell to pay. And he knows it.

Fucking hell, the past couple of weeks I have been dealing with one issue after another. I’m beginning to think I’m cursed. When I know the truth is I’ve been horribly distracted, and that’s why my business dealings are causing chaos.

At all times, there must be a captain at the helm, or it all goes to shit.

I lounge back in my chair and drag my hand over my face. Weary exhaustion settles deep in my bones.

A rap on my door has me barking, “What?”

My assistant, Eve, pokes her head inside, unruffled by my ill temper. Fuck knows she’s seen enough of it lately.

“Sir, your fiancée is here to see you.”

I stand, pacing the space behind my desk. Sophia is here. She’s never come to my office in the city before. Unfortunately, this is a bad time. Since claiming her for myself, I’ve put minimal effort in with my business. I need to stay focused and ensure everything runs smoothly from now on.

Sophia is a distraction that I don’t need right now.

I’ve said some really stupid, and dangerous, things since proposing to her. I’ve given into temptation and tasted her, I showed her my childhood bedroom—which no one else has set foot in since I left for college, and I’ve killed for her.

What was that nonsense I’d stated about wanting her body, heart, and soul? I must have been out of my fucking mind.

She’ll make a good wife. I’ll come to her when I need an heir, but that’s as much as I can give her. She’s too adept at clouding my mind and then I forget about what’s important—my business. Sophia has a knack for making me lose all perspective. I can’t risk it again.

I might make an exception for our honeymoon. But that’s it.

“I’m busy. Send her away.” I wave off Eve, expecting her to bow out and close the door.

Instead, the door bursts the rest of the way open and my future wife strides into my office like she owns the place. She ditches her coat on a chair, and places a large to-go bag on top of my desk.

I fold my arms. “I’m busy right now.”

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